Of Christmas Present
by Voice God
Summary: (Implied yaoi) Duo tried to break through Heero's icy exterior... but things don't work out as he intends


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.of Christmas Present ---  
  
"So what am I meant to do with it?"  
  
Heero turned the small box over again in his hands. Duo got the impression he hadn't even looked at it.  
  
"You don't know what it is yet."  
  
"Why don't you tell me?"  
  
"Why don't you open it?"  
  
"Duo we've got better things to do."  
  
"Heero- I got it, wrapped it and spent a lot of time on it and it is for you now for God's sakes stop acting so dumb and open it!"  
  
It obviously hadn't worked. Heero had tried ignoring Duo. He had tried sitting the gift on the table and offering to open it later. For some reason the American was going to bug him about this until his did it.  
  
"Alright." He sighed, and then tugged at the ribbon.  
  
After he had spent several minutes wrestling with the paper, Duo started giggling. He glared at the American under his bangs.  
  
"Sorry." Duo tried to swallow his laugh and held his hand in front of his face as the red stain under his skin ran all the way from his ears to his cheeks. ".if there's one thing I know how to do it's wrap!"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
There was a wrench and half the paper, box and gift went flying up into the air.  
  
Heero pulled the toolset, most of the tools hanging off where he had torn their carry case, out of the half packet, and then did his best to look grateful without really meaning it.  
  
"Thanks. I'm sure they'll be useful."  
  
Duo's eyes were wide as saucers. He looked like he was about to shout, but no matter how much he tried nothing would come out of his mouth.  
  
The Japanese boy looked away.  
  
"Sorry about the package. Happy Christmas."  
  
Still as expressionless as when this scene had started, he left and went outside.  
  
It was several minutes before the hanging pain inside Duo seemed to abate enough to let him say anything.  
  
"You thoughtless. uncaring. self serving. heartless. self appreciative. unfeeling. soulless. heartless."  
  
He slumped down onto the cold floor of the warehouse.  
  
"That. hurt." A tear welled up in his right eye, but he sniffed it back. "That really hurt. the one gift I could afford for you. the only money I had and I spent it on you."  
  
He had lived a hard childhood, and had looked on as everyone he ever cared about was wished out of existence one by one. He was no stranger to shedding tears. but he hadn't cried for years now. Men don't cry.  
  
*  
  
Heero pulled his grease stained head out of the hatch on his Gundam.  
  
"DAMNIT!"  
  
His arm tore sharply on an exposed piece of chassis. He crumpled down into the snow, and wrapped his arm in his shirt, which slowly began glowing red.  
  
Without thinking, he reached out and brought back a type three ultra drill. A strange balancing act began- Heero balancing back on the hatch, clutching his arm, trying to hang onto one of the engine exhausts, whilst jamming the drill into it.  
  
It clicked left once. Twice.  
  
A couple more turns and it would be over. then he could go back in and rest.  
  
The drill jammed.  
  
The Japanese boy twisted his wrist a little harder.  
  
The drill didn't move.  
  
His teeth gritted together and he exploded,  
  
"YOU PIECE OF SH."  
  
Whilst simultaneously wrenching the drill in his arm- sending his upper body off at an angle. With a slip, his shoes were swept off of the gundanium shell and once again he fell with a soft 'shoof' into the white snow.  
  
He lay there for a few seconds, dazed, before clutching his head and getting up again, lifting his arm out of the red pool it was creating.  
  
"What kind of damn drill was."  
  
He lifted the drill closer. A crumpled note was attached to it by ribbon, torn badly where it had been caught in his Gundam.  
  
'Dearest Heero, I knew you wouldn't want anything soppy so I gotcha this tool set. Hope you like it- it's as close as I could get to something you might find useful!' There was a sudden pause, and a change of handwriting, as if the author had sat back and tried to draw up strength to say something difficult. 'Have a wonderful Christmas- I love you. Duo.'  
  
*  
  
He seemed to have been sitting in the snow for hours, but must only have been a few moments.  
  
"He. loves me?"  
  
It was hard. It was always hard when Duo did this. It came in waves. sometimes Duo would just let it lie, but then it would build up to something like this.  
  
'Well. maybe. maybe I could just say thank you a little better. guess it's the least I can do.'  
  
He picked up the tools, arranged them neatly in the tattered carry case, and then headed for the door.  
  
It was quiet inside their make shift home.  
  
And dark.  
  
"Erm. hey. Duo? You there? I just wanted to say thanks for the tools. they're. well. they're great. Thankyou.."  
  
"."  
  
"Duo?"  
  
He headed over to the messy sofa, and sure enough Duo was laying on it, sleeping peacefully. .  
  
No.  
  
Not peacefully.  
  
His breathing was. strange.  
  
Sometimes normal. sometimes shuddering.  
  
The small smile dissolved from Heero's lips as he pushed the mess of hair out of Duo's face.  
  
The hairs were sopping wet. his eyelashes were soaked. and his cheeks were moist and red.  
  
He had cried himself to sleep.  
  
"You silly baka!" Heero exclaimed as quietly as he could.  
  
There was a few seconds as Heero thought what to say to appologise.  
  
But then.  
  
Duo wouldn't want him to see this.  
  
.even though it was his fault.  
  
The Japanese boy looked round to the gash in his arm, and the blood congealed on it.  
  
It became clear.  
  
Too clear.  
  
"I guess I deserved that." He leant closer to Duo, and kissed his eyelids gently as he could. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'll make it up to you."  
  
He got up to leave. Duo would be angry if he knew Heero had seen him cry.  
  
But Heero moved closer once more, gently brushing his lips on Duo's kneck. just slightly more than touching. 


End file.
